


The Sweetness of Surrender

by LadyDarkrose



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDarkrose/pseuds/LadyDarkrose
Summary: Louis and Leatat make a bet....





	The Sweetness of Surrender

The softly played notes drifted from the parlor to where I lay, sprawled on my bed reading Baudelaire's _Les Fleurs du Mal_. At first I couldn't make out the melody - Lestat had slowed the tempo, made it a much more sensual tune.

Setting aside my book, I rose from the bed and started down the hall to where he sat at the piano. As I walked, he began to sing softly, almost to himself, as if he had no expectation that I would come upon hearing him.

"You've done it all, you've broken every code..."

Glancing up when he realized I moved towards him, my golden-haired love gave me his best rakish smile, the one that, when flashed at me in public, nearly made me blush and melt. Eyes locked to mine, he continued with his serenade.

"...and brought the rebel to the floor..."

Amazing, how much of ones self can be found in the lyrics of songs. So through the words of Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel, Lestat meant to seduce me, despite that I'd earlier rebuffed his advances because I'd caught him in a lie of where and with whom he'd been a few nights before. His eyes remained on mine as I made my way to the piano and leaned against the edge very close to him, bent slightly at the waist, so that folded arms held me propped comfortably, and I crossed my ankles.

With great feeling and passion came the next line: "You spoilt the game, no matter what you say..."

What my love failed to take into consideration is, I, too, knew this song. Leaning even closer to him, I allowed my lips to brush lightly over his eyelids, his cheek, feeling the shiver of excitement caused by so soft a touch as it passed through him as I breathed the words. "Blue eyes, blue eyes, how come you tell so many lies?"

Lestat's eyes closed and his head bowed forward, the rich locks of his hair falling into his face and partially covering it, but still he played on. He then looked back up at me, giving his head a sharp shake to one side, flipping the hair out of his eyes.

"You do hold a grudge, Beautiful One," he sighed sadly. "It was nothing, and you know it. You can't feign ignorance of my occasional dalliances with David."

It's so hard for me to be stern with Lestat, it always has been. One look in those ever changing eyes, one glimpse of those heavy, beautiful lips pouting and I cave in. Still, I try. "It isn't your dalliances that concern me, Lestat," I mused. "I've long known I can't keep you from straying, and I can't say that I care either way about it. It's that you continue to insist on lying to me about it. I mean, why tell me you're doing one thing when you're doing another? It's pointless."

With a dramatic sigh, Lestat sounded several random notes on the keyboard then stopped playing. "I don't know, mon cher. Why do I ever do anything that I do? Because I can, I suppose..." He turned sideways on the bench, 'walked' his fingers across the edge of the piano to where I stood and, enclosing my wrist in his grip, pulled me closer to him so that I now stood facing him, standing between his knees. With his hands massaging my hips and making their way to my ass, he now pressed his lips to my stomach in a series of slow, soft kisses. "So now I'm properly chastened; you've refused me for three nights. Surely, it's time for us to make up, non? For you to say once again that you forgive me? For us to be... reunited?" He raised his head and looked up at me expectantly.

Naturally, my response was not to his liking. I stepped back out of his reach and gave him a small, wry smile. "Oh, it's not a matter of forgiving you, mon démon d'or. It's a matter of making you serve penance. You see, I don't think you are completely chastened. Because, we've been through this before in the past - you transgress, beg my forgiveness, are granted absolution and things go back to the way they were until the next time around. And there's _always_ another time, 'Stat. There's a _reason_ Claudia called you the Father of Lies - sometimes I think you wouldn't know honesty if it bit you on the ass."

The expression of shock on his face upon hearing these words from me was priceless. But it felt so good to have him in this position for once! He did, of course, recover quickly and assumed his normal air of pretension, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Oh, is that a fact? And, pray tell me, my _darling_ Louis, my _child_. What penance, exactly, do you in all your pontifical wisdom see fit to bestow upon me?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at him for this. After all these years, that he feels free still to address me with such arrogance never ceases to amaze me.

"Well, Lestat, I had rather imagined you could figure it out by now. As you said, I've already refused you for three nights... I think another few weeks should really drive the point home, n'est pas?"

His eyes rolling in melodramatic fashion, he threw his arms up in exasperation. "Oh, Louis! Surely you jest!" When he saw by my expression that I was dead serious, he just shook his head. "No, Louis, no. This would qualify as 'cruel and unusual punishment'. They don't allow such things in this country. No. That will not do."

"You aren't in prison, 'Stat. The laws against cruel and unusual punishment don't apply here." He simply shook his head furiously, refusing to accept my decree. "Oh, what's the matter, mon coeur?" I cooed wickedly. "Don't think you're up for the challenge?"

Lestat huffed and puffed and blustered indignantly, wagging his finger at me. "Don't you take that attitude with me, Louis! I won't stand for it! And don't you think for a moment that you'd be up for it either!" With a loosely formed fist, he struck his chest several times in a fit of bravado. "At least _I_ make no pretense about it!"

Laughing again, I turned and took several swaggering steps away from him and replied as nonchalantly as I could. "Oh, I don't know about that, mon amour. I think I could do quite well with a break from your ravenous appetites..."

"Oh, and I suppose your appetites are much more reserved then? I'll make sure to remind you of that next time you're raking those claws of yours over my back and begging to be fucked harder and harder! But I'll tell you something!" At this point he had risen quickly from the bench and stood so that we were vis à vis. "I would be willing to bet that you could no more go without than I can!"

"Lestat, you can't be serious?"

"As a heart attack! I say you will crack and beg to be fucked like the bitch you're acting like before I will crawl on my belly and beg you to have me."

I considered this, sure that there was no way that I could lose such a bet. After all, I was the one who remained faithful to Lestat while he acted as the tomcat, always on the prowl. "Alright then, what shall be the prize for the winner?"

Again, Lestat threw his arms into the air, gesturing wildly in what I could only imagine was a left over behavior from his time spent on Renaud's stage in Paris more than two centuries earlier. "Whatever! Who cares? Why need it be more than the pure satisfaction of having won?"

Reaching out to run my hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding against it, I smiled sweetly at him. "It's on then. Indifference or seduction, all tactics are a fair play." With that I pressed the length of my body against his in a lingering, sensual embrace, then walked back to my room and resumed my reading.

At first, Lestat tried to go the indifference route, ignoring me altogether. That worked for all of about an hour. We'd passed each other as we moved about the townhouse after awaking, yet not exchanged a glance, much less words. Soon, he was in the shower and I settled into my favorite chair, in the parlor, and began working the _New York Times'_ crossword puzzle, nibbling absent-mindedly on my pen as I considered the solutions to each question. When he walked into the room, he was dripping water all over the rug, and stark naked. The droplets gleamed and sparkled like diamonds against his golden, luminescent skin.

"Lestat...? You aren't dressing this evening?"

"Oh, non, cher, I don't think so. It's such a warm evening, and the air feels so nice against my skin. Very sensual, really." He smirked at me. "Why, my love? Is it more than you can bear, simply seeing me in the altogether?"

Looking him up and down, vaguely aware of the pen still resting against my lips, I gave my head a slight shake. "Non, it's simply that you don't generally parade about the house nude."

With a roguish smile he retorted "And _you_ don't generally fellate writing utensils, but you are tonight."

Dropping the pen away from my mouth, I gave a shocked start. "I was doing no such thing! I merely chewed the end of it as I worked the puzzle! Nothing more!"

Chuckling, Lestat made his way across the room to the front door and plucked the mail from the table near the entrance. "Cher, that was a deep throat if ever I've seen one!"

On the second night of our wager I emerged from my room shortly after waking wearing the outfit I knew most drove him to madness. Black leather pants so tight they seemed painted on and showed every sinuous curve to the best possible advantage and rode low on my hips. Ripped skintight black fishnet shirt, the one with long sleeves and hem that bared a good six inches of flesh between it and the waistband of the pants. To add even more to the tantalization, I'd taken the extra step of piercing both nipples and navel, wearing sterling silver rings with hematite beads in all three. Understand none of this would ever be my first choice of clothing. But Lestat so loves to see me as the gothy bad boy, and I was trying to entice him, after all.

I found him in his office, surprised that he was doing something so utterly mundane as writing out bills and balancing his checkbook. Especially surprised by that last fact, since this was something he never did otherwise. Anything to keep his mind occupied and away from sexual thoughts, I guess...

Sliding my arm up the doorjamb so that it rested somewhere above my head, I struck a seductive pose in the doorway.

"I'm going out for the evening, Lestat," I sighed casually. "I'm really not sure when I'll be back..."

He looked up briefly then went back to his calculations. I gave myself a private little smile and mentally counted to three. No sooner had I reached that number, Lestat's head shot back up and he blinked in disbelief of my appearance. At a loss for words, Lestat. Now _that's_ something you don't see every day.

After several moments of unabashed lustful stares, he made a feeble attempt at composing himself. I cocked my head to one side and shot him a seductive glance.

"That is, unless you'd rather I stayed home...?"

Lestat cleared his throat several times before answering; and when he did answer, his voice was the lust-filled growl I normally get when he's lost in the throes of passion... My tactic was working even better than I had thought!

"And just _where_ is it you're going, dressed like _that_?"

With the hand the rested over my head on the doorjamb, I played with my hair as if distracted. "Oh, I don't know," I said with a slight, casual shrug of my shoulders, which caused the shirt to expose even more skin. "I thought maybe I'd check out the... action over at Oz."

This statement truly incensed him. Again, he worked himself up into a tremendous huff. "You're going to that... that _meat_ _market_ looking like _this_??"

Glancing down at myself, I feigned non-comprehension of what he was saying. "But Lestat, you _love_ this outfit on me, you say so every time I wear it!"

He nodded emphatically. "Oui, love it on you, cher, and love tearing it off you even more! You know that damned well!"

I blinked innocently as he rose from his desk and brushed past me on his way to his room.

"I've been playing this game nicely with you, Louis. Now you think you can act the coquettish chaton and come out the victor in this little competition. Well, I'll tell you now, you may well find that this little gambit of yours will backfire! Understand that you've thrown down the gauntlet here - and I accept your challenge!"

Despite Lestat's little outburst, I did, indeed, go out dancing at Oz, and had a damned fine time doing it, I might add. On the dance floor I met and seduced a beautiful young man who brought to mind the late singer, Jim Morrison. I left him dead and drained in an alleyway several blocks from the club. What was the phrase so favored by Morrison and his ilk? Ah, yes. _Live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse._ Well, this young man made a handsome enough corpse, I supposed.

When I arrived home sometime around 4am, I was shocked by the sounds I heard emanating from Lestat's room, the passion filled moans and cries. I was at first sure that he'd brought someone into our home to act as a substitute, in his anger and frustration. But no. Upon further investigation, I found him sprawled on his back on his bed, head and shoulders propped on a mound of pillows. On the television across from him played a raunchy bit of gay porn - a well-hung stud was putting it to another with a taught, sculpted, muscular ass. Next to the television was a pile of new DVDs, all of the same sort as what played now. Seems while I was out partying, Lestat had decided to go on a spree in at least one of NOLA's infamous sex shops.

So, there lay my lover, buck naked, left leg out straight, the right bent, focused on the screen, the remote in one hand and his swollen, throbbing cock in the other. He'd obviously been at himself for quite some time, as he looked somewhat chaffed. It didn't take long for the heavy, blood-laden scent of his undoubted multiple orgasms to reach my nose, and that, combined with seeing him this way, sent a pulsating shiver of desire through the entirety of my being. As I stood watching, Lestat caught a glimpse of me in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. An evil smile flickered over his lips, but he continued to pretend not to notice my presence. He dropped the remote and with that hand now free, used it to cup and massage his heavy, plump balls as his other hand continued to work his cock. Up and down, up and down the shaft his hand slid slowly, now and then his slender fingers would come up over the head and tease it mercilessly, rubbing, pinching, testing to see just how much fluid was beginning to emerge.

The desire for him was quickly welling up in me. Already my cock was straining to break free of its tight confines, throbbing, aching for the touch of his mouth, his fangs, his tongue. The pounding of my heart matched the throbbing in my cock, and together made my fangs ache. Without even thinking or willing it, my hand went to my crotch, rubbing the bulging erection with the flat of my palm. This Lestat noticed and again, a smiled played its way over his sensuous lips. Slowly, he got up from the bed and stood near me, still stoking himself teasingly, a coy, seductive expression spreading over his face. I struggled to maintain some degree of control over myself.

"Quite the hot movie you're watching, mon démon," I croaked, my voice catching and belying my inner struggle.

Lestat glanced over his shoulder at the screen, then back at me. "Oui, but I would have to say it's rather tepid in comparison to our own unions. Wouldn't you agree?" With that, his free hand reached out and cupped my crotch, fondling me with the sure confidence that only comes with so many years of familiarity.

Moaning deep and low in my throat at his touch, wanting more, I could not stop from pressing myself more roughly into his hand. This brought a triumphant smile to Lestat's face. Releasing his cock, he slid his arm about my waist and guided me towards the bed.

"You realize what this means, oui, chaton?" he whispered, his mouth seeking mine out, his fingers moving across my chest to pinch my nipples roughly, to tug at the rings in them.

Shutting tight my eyes against the rising tears of frustration and desire, I nodded. "Oui, mon amour, I know. You've won..."

His hands lowered to run across the exposed flesh between my shirt and pants, and skillfully slid up under the shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside in one smooth movement.

"That's right, my beauty, my love, my possession," he purred coolly. "I've won. And I claim _you_ as my reward." Lips and tongue teased and stroked my nipples now; the rings caught between his teeth, tugged, twisted. His hands held me briefly by the hips, then slipped into the waistband of the leather and eased them down and off.

Going to his knees before me, Lestat raked his nails from my belly down to my thighs, hard enough to make the welts raise but not enough yet to draw blood. He drew a single nail down the length of my shaft sharply, this time to draw blood. I gasped at the exquisite agony and looked down at him and it, as the crimson gash formed along my cock. Slowly, with the tip of his tongue, Lestat traced the line of it, savoring the taste of my blood as he went. The wound quickly healed, and he repeated this on both sides and underneath my cock, slash and tease, slash and tease, never taking me fully into his mouth, just lapping with his feline tongue, his eyes holding mine the entire time. He soon had me feeling as if I'd explode - my already throbbing, aching cock was more so now with the rush of blood that had gone to the wounds he'd made. I trembled at the slightest touch as he teasingly trailed his fingers back up over the welts he'd made on my thighs and stomach. Standing once more, Lestat cocked his head to one side, looking at me as he slowly moved to my side, then slightly behind me.

"It's terrible isn't it, mon beauté? Terrible to be so consumed with passion, with desire and longing."

I couldn't move, so overwhelmed was I with wanting him. All I could do was stand there, trembling with desire, wanting to beg him now to stop playing this game and yet somehow unable to do so, feeling his cool breath stirring over my skin as he spoke.

"Lestat," I whispered hoarsely. "For once can you please have the sense to win gracefully and not torture me for the sake of gloating?" His silken hands slid easily over my back, drug his nails down it and over my ass, again just hard enough to raise welts, and laughed softly to himself.

"Oh, I don't think so, cher. Sorry. This particular win is just too delicious not to gloat over and have fun with. Perhaps next time." Playfully, he shoved me forward so that I landed face first on the bed. "On your knees, chaton. Let me see that lovely pert little ass of yours."

I rose up slightly on my knees and stretched my torso flat against the bed so that my ass was in the air. He joined me on the bed just behind me, his hands kneading my ass roughly, pinching the flesh, hurting me slightly. God, how he knows what I like! I could see already that he was going to hit my every erogenous trigger point one by one if he himself could hold out that long.

Kneeling now himself, he pressed the head of his iron stiff cock against my ass teasingly, letting it push just between my cheeks a bit then drawing back, only to do it again and again. I pressed my face into the bed and moaned at his teasing.

With a mock tone of concern, he gasped. "Why, Louis! You're so tight, so tense! Oh! This won't do at all!" He sighed and gave my ass a sharp slap. "Really, Louis. You must learn to relax a bit!"

Moving back a bit, his hands were again on my ass, gently pulling my cheeks apart. Seconds later I felt what I knew was coming - his cool wet tongue slid stiffly into me a bit, probing just a bit at first, then pushing deeper and deeper in. I writhed against the action of his tongue, noises I can't even begin to find words to describe escaping from my throat.

Drawing back his tongue and deeply inserting his thumb in its place, Lestat nipped the right cheek roughly - not with his fangs, mind you, but with his teeth - hard enough to draw blood. Pressing his tongue flat against it, he lapped all he could from the wound before it closed over.

I whimpered and whined under his tormenting for several minutes, until I could no longer bear it.

"Lestat," I hissed between clenched teeth. "Please, enough of your toying with me!"

He laughed softly. "Hmm," he began musingly. "No, I want to hear you say it. Go ahead Louis. Say it."

Exasperated, I threw him a glance over my left shoulder. "For the love of God, Lestat! What is it? What do you want me to say?" I watched closely as a sadistic smile overcame him.

"You know full well what it is I want you to say, mon cher."

Dropping my head down to the bed again, I sobbed softly in frustration.

"Say the words, Louis. It's true, isn't it? You know it is, and always has been." I nodded, my forehead still pressed against the bed.

My voice muffled by the blankets and choked with emotion, I gave him what he wanted in order to finally have him follow through after all his teasing and foreplay.

"Oui," I cried. "Je suis... je suis ton chienne!"

"Now see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I felt him kneel once more on the bed and guide the head of his cock between my cheeks, pressing as close as he could, pushing the entire length of it into me with a delicious amount of force. I cried out from the searing ecstasy of being so roughly taken.

He rode me hard with several long, hard strokes, his lower belly slapping against my ass with every pass. Reaching my hand between my thighs, I held his balls tightly in my hand, causing him to moan and sigh and utter lovely obscenities in French. He began to vary his stokes - long, slow and languid then several shallow fast thrusts.

Snaking his arm around my waist, he tightly clutched my cock in his hand and began manipulating it so that he was jerking it in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. My entire body shook and shivered with this added stimulation; I felt the muscles along the tops of my thighs tighten and tense with the mounting climax.

Lestat too was getting very close to coming - the undulation of his pelvis against me was becoming a bit erratic, losing the rhythm he had earlier established and he was mumbling softly under his breath, whether to himself or to me, I couldn't tell.

"Oui... so tight, so deliciously tight... Mon Dieu, Louis...! Your ass is... Magnificent!"

His grip on my cock intensified as he gave a low, rumbling moan and shot his climax deep inside of me. Between the increased pressure on my cock and his orgasm, I too came. He caught as much of the ejaculation in his hand as he could, drizzled it over my lower back and proceeded to lick every bit of it up.

My knees gave out from exhaustion and spent passion, and I fell flat onto the bed with Lestat still atop me, now kissing my shoulder, my neck, my ear, whispering to me bits of love poetry that he'd picked up somewhere. God knows he'd never actually read a book of poems.

Folding my arms under my head, I listened to him go on for several minutes. When he at last quieted, I sighed.

"You're a bastard, Lestat. A fiend."

He chuckled a bit, then got up to secure the window shade against the approaching dawn.

"No, chaton, I merely played your game better than you did. I played it by your rules, didn't I? You did say that all tactics were fair after all." Returning to the bed, he spread a large, heavy blanket over me then slid under it, next to me, snuggling close. With his lips pressed to my shoulder, he whispered "Je t'aime, Louis."

Rolling onto my side, I drew him closer to my body, allowing mine to press against his and held him tightly, protectively. "Je t'aime, mon démon, mon ange, mon amour..."

In the moments before the sun rose over the horizon, bringing the paralytic death sleep with it, I thought of what lesson this little bet with Lestat had taught me. That he knew me and my desires better than I did seemed obvious. I had been so confident that I could resist any temptation he threw my way; in the end, I had surrendered to the simple sight of my lover pleasuring himself. I simply couldn't stand to not be part of, if not the cause of, that pleasure. Part of me had been humiliated, embarrassed that I couldn't control even the basest of desires within myself, that I had instead abandoned and surrendered myself to them. But in the end, I had to admit; there was a certain sweetness to that surrender.


End file.
